Somebody Like You (Starlight Hill Series Book 2)

by Bell, Heatherly

  “Hi, Brooke. I’m Gigi Rosenberg, Billy’s publicist.” She held out her hand, and Brooke took it, moving to allow Gigi inside.

  “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I just moved in.” Brooke waved in the direction of her boxes.

  “I heard. And you didn’t know that Billy would be living in the manor house when you asked to live here?” Her stiletto heels made a clackety sound against the hardwood floor.

  “No idea.” Brooke waited a beat. “Where’s Billy?”

  She didn’t know this woman, and the tone in her voice sounded strangely accusatory. She might be imagining things, though. Billy could, and should be the one to explain to his publicist. This was her cottage now. Billy had said it could be. Brooke didn’t care if Attila the Hun moved in next door. She wasn’t budging.

  “He’s taking a quick shower, so I sneaked out here to talk to you, woman to woman.”

  Uh-oh. Seemed like maybe Gigi might be Billy’s woman, and naturally she didn’t appreciate the arrangement. But tough luck, she’d have to live with it. “Look, I don’t have any designs on Billy if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not here to steal your man.”

  Gigi’s eyebrows rose to her forehead and she let out a little cackle. “Is that what you think? How old do you think I am, dear?”

  Brooke hated this game. Mom and all her friends played it with her on different occasions. They claimed their healthy way of living stopped, and at times even reversed, the aging process.

  Brooke erred on the side of caution. “I don’t know, forty?”

  “Fifty-eight!” Gigi announced with a hair flip. “This is what staying out of the sun for twenty years can do for a woman.”

  Damn, she did look good. “Wow. Well, that’s a big age difference, but I’m not here to judge you.”

  Now Gigi looked at her with pity. As if: poor, simple Brooke. “No, no, dear. Billy’s like a son to me. And I look out for him. It happens to be my job too, but naturally I love Billy.”

  “Doesn’t everybody?” Brooke sighed and moved a cardboard box labeled ‘books’ so she could sit on her crowded loveseat.

  “Both his blessing, and his curse.” Gigi nodded, arms folded across her chest.

  Brooke for the life of her couldn’t imagine why everyone in the whole world loving you could be viewed as a curse. “Uh huh.”

  “At least once a year Billy’s has a woman claim they had a love child together. Lies, all of them.” Gigi waved her arms around in the air. “But those DNA tests can be time consuming. If he’d slept with all the women the media claims, not only would he have a bad shoulder, but he’d have no knees left. All of it greatly exaggerated. Don’t you read the sports section?”

  Why did everyone ask her that? “No, but I’m going to start.” It sounded saucier than some of her romance novels.

  “Anyway, it’s my job to keep the baseball groupies away. Women who would love nothing more than to sink their teeth into Turlock, Inc.”

  Brooke would have thought Gigi’s job would be fielding endorsement offers and issuing press releases, but what did she know? “I get it. So you think I’m here to get knocked up and stake my claim? Don’t worry about me. I don’t even like kids.”

  This was not going well. Brooke resisted the urge to pummel the publicist. Pummeled publicist. It even had alliteration.

  “I didn’t say that,” Gigi said, waving a dismissive hand. “But appearances do matter. What if the media gets wind of this arrangement?”

  “I don’t care. Billy said I could live here, and I gave my thirty days’ notice to my landlord. Too late.”

  “We can find a better arrangement for you.”

  “Not a chance. I want to talk to Billy.” It had been a long time since she thought she’d find an ally in Billy Turlock, but today might be that day. She rose and headed towards the front door, when she heard a much harder pounding on it.

  Brooke opened the door to see a freshly showered Billy, hair still damp and pulled into a ponytail. He wore low slung faded jeans and an equally faded A’s jersey. He smelled like soap, looked devastatingly handsome, and was missing his ever-present grin. He glared in Gigi’s direction. “I can’t leave you alone for a minute. Can I?”

  “We were just chatting.” Gigi smiled, reminding Brooke a little bit of Cruella DeVille.

  “Yeah,” Billy said. “I can imagine the chatting.”

  “You told me I could live here,” Brooke reminded him.

  He stood in the frame of the door, filling it with his presence. “I did, and I haven’t changed my mind about that. As long as you don’t mind having me as your neighbor. I like it out here as much as you do. Are you cool with that?”

  “I’m okay with it.” Brooke waved him inside. Too late now, anyway. Billy did have a right to live in his own house. Even she had to concede that.

  “Oh wonderful, I’m glad you two kids are happy with this risky and tawdry arrangement.” Gigi threw up her hands.

  “It’s only tawdry because you’re making it out to be! And besides, I never step out of the house half naked. I only did that today because I thought I was alone.” Brooke felt her cheeks burn as she locked eyes with Billy. Not only did he not break the gaze, but his eyes were smiling even if his lips were not. “Believe me, it won’t happen again.”

  “Are you satisfied?” Billy turned to Gigi. “You don’t have to protect me from Brooke. She’s not even interested in me.”

  “Exactly.” Brooke pointed her index finger at Gigi.

  “Hmmmm,” Gigi glanced from Brooke to Billy. “Just friends, huh? That’s it?”

  “Old friends,” Billy said, hooking his thumb towards the door. “Now can we leave Brooke alone? You and I have business to discuss.”

  Gigi moved towards the door. “I usually have a sixth sense about these things. I see I was wrong this time. My apologies.”

  “You and I have to talk business, too. The winery,” Brooke said from the front door. “There’s so much to do and plan before we open.”

  “Absolutely. It’s at the top of my list. Come over in a couple of hours,” Billy said, smiling and shutting the door.

  At the top of the list? This winery should be the list, and if he required a reminder, Brooke would be more than happy to set him straight.

  *****

  “You must be out of your ever-lovin’ mind if you think I believe this ‘we’re just friends’ line.”

  Billy opened the front door and made room for Gigi and her attitude to walk inside. “Even if I wanted to marry her tomorrow, which I don’t, it’s none of your business.”

  She stopped in her tracks, turned and pointed a finger in his direction. “Billy, don’t even joke about that. Tell me you wouldn’t marry her, or anyone, without a pre-nup. Tell me or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

  Just like that they were back to a discussion they’d had once a year ever since she’d signed on as his publicist. He’d only been close to drawing up a pre-nup once, but that time it had made all the sense in the world. Still, he couldn’t help but believe the word pre-nup wasn’t exactly the start of great foreplay. For now, he didn’t see the need to think about it.

  “You’ll sleep fine.”

  “Not with that vixen next door. Good heavens I thought your eyes would have to be surgically placed back inside their sockets. Why do you think I suggested you take a shower?”

  “So you’d have time to go hatch your evil plans?” To destroy any chance in hell he had with Brooke, who might never forgive either one of them.

  “What part of’ protect’ do you not understand?”

  “You don’t need to protect me from Brooke.” Though she might need to protect Brooke from him. He wasn’t sure how long he could go without at least giving it a shot. For now, he’d have to. He could read it in Brooke’s thinly veiled contempt. He wouldn’t be seeing a glimpse of those panties again anytime soon.

  “You say that about all gorgeous women, and you’re always wrong.”

  “Look,
Brooke was the one girl at Starlight High that wasn’t part of my fan club.”

  “Oh no, it’s worse than I thought. Every athlete has one. She’s the one, right? The one that got away. Be smart, Billy. Let her stay away.” She made a shoving motion in the air.

  Scary how on-target Gigi had come to his own somewhat convoluted feelings, even if she was a drama queen about the whole thing. “Let’s stop talking about my non-existent love life, thanks to you, by the way. Let me see some of these endorsement deals.”

  For the next two hours they went over some possible income-generating leads, but Billy wasn’t interested in any of them. Not like he thought a washed-up pitcher would get any significant opportunities, but he couldn’t see attaching his name to the newest wood shining product or kitty litter.

  More exciting were all the local schools who wanted him to bring a pitching clinic to them. Gigi said there was no money in that, not to mention the time and organization efforts it would take. Also, he wasn’t supposed to be diluting his star power or some such nonsense.

  Still, it would be something to be near the diamond again, even in some small way.

  More embarrassing were the offers of renaming local parks after him, and the new wing at St. Vincent’s Hospital. Of course, after a generous donation.

  A couple of hours later, he’d bid Gigi goodbye. She’d be flying out to LA on her broomstick in the afternoon, and not a moment too soon.

  Brooke was at his door within minutes. “Is Cruella DeVille gone?”

  Such a good name for Gigi. He almost laughed but Brooke, dressed in a tight Hensley shirt that hugged her succulent breasts, didn’t inspire laughter so much as pure unbridled lust.

  “The coast is clear.” He moved so she could come inside.

  “We have so much to talk about.” She held a laptop, a notebook, and a smart phone.

  “Right. Let me start with an apology. Gigi means well.”

  “I don’t like the way she sized me up. Walk out your house half naked and people start to make all kinds of assumptions.”

  It wouldn’t help for her to keep bringing that up. He could still picture the hard nipples pressed up against the tight cotton t-shirt, the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder, belly button with something shiny in it, the curvy bare legs and scrumptious ass.

  He needed a drink. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, please.” Brooke didn’t waste any time setting up her laptop on the kitchen table, and pulling out her notebook and pen. “Cream, no sugar.”

  He gathered the mugs and met her at the table. “I’m all yours.”

  Brooke leveled a gaze at him. “Don’t say that in front of your publicist or she’s bound to take it the wrong way.”

  He probably deserved that. “Don’t worry about her, she’s gone back to LA. Mostly we talk over the phone, but every once in a while there will be a chill in the air. My skin will crawl, and I know Gigi must be thinking about me.”

  Brooke smiled, and holy shit, she should do that more often. Why had she stopped smiling like that, and what was the jerk’s name? “First things first.” Brooke tapped the pen on her notebook. “A name.”

  “For…?”

  “The winery, of course. I mean, I figured you’d want to rename it the Billy Turlock Winery or something like that.” She looked serious.

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Doesn’t have a nice ring to it. Too bad I’m not Italian. They have the best names for wineries. Turlock— now that sounds like a good bat, but not a great wine. What do you think?”

  “Well, hear me out.” She looked tentative, unsure for once. “I was going to suggest we keep the name. The Mirassu winery has a long history in Starlight Hill, and for years it was a good one. We could say it’s under new ownership and management.”

  “Fine with me.” Billy reached for his cup and took another gulp of coffee. “I don’t even think Pop would mind, but I’ll run it by him.”

  “That was easy,” Brooke said, making a note, even if she did sound surprised.

  He leaned back in his chair, gratified he’d straightened her out on the assumption that he was another big headed narcissistic jock. Even if something told him he still had a long way to go in convincing Brooke. “I aim to please. What’s next?”

  “An opening date.”

  He set down his mug and studied Brooke. “How soon can we be ready?”

  “Soon, I think. How do you feel about the holidays?”

  “It’s the best time of the year.” Yeah, he was a guy but he still appreciated the parties, the food, and giving gifts to his family and friends. He also appreciated all the Victoria’s Secret commercials and the red frilly lingerie. He found himself wondering if Brooke had red panties. Probably best not to ask.

  Brooke frowned. “I think most people feel that way, so I was going to suggest December fifth. It’s also the day of the town parade. Santa comes through town with his big float. You know the one that’s supposed to look like a sleigh but looks like a boat?”

  “They’re still doing that?” As a kid he’d ridden on that boat once or twice with his Little League team.

  “Yeah,” Brooke sighed. She didn’t look happy as she made a note. “So is December fifth okay?”

  “That’ll work.”

  For the next hour, Brooke talked about the harvest, crush, marketing, a new website, appointments with some of the restaurants in town with which she had connections, and hiring a staff.

  “I’m sure I can get Eric to come over from the Serrano winery, and he’s a good employee. It’s hard to find good help. I believe in holding on to what you have when it’s working.”

  “I’ll trust you with those decisions.”

  “Great. I like that you’re giving me all this control, but don’t forget I’ll need you to be around. To attend meetings and be the face of this business. I’m not naïve enough to believe that our success won’t partially hinge on one popular baseball player.”

  “You’ll have me whenever you need me.” He meant that in more than one way, but it likely went right over Brooke’s head.

  “Thanks, Hotshot.”

  He met her eyes. “You know, you’re the only one who ever got away with calling me that. I’ve decided I’ll let you keep doing it.”

  Brooke leveled an uncertain gaze in his direction. “O-kay.”

  He glanced at his watch. “We’ve talked business for over an hour. For two people who hadn’t talked in ten years before a few weeks ago, we haven’t talked anything personal yet.”

  “Billy, you saw me half naked and haven’t even bought me dinner yet. How much more personal do you want to get?”

  Well, for one he’d actually like to get underneath those panties but that wasn’t something he would share. Yet. “What happened to you after high school?”

  “I went to Chicago State. You know that.” She tossed that ponytail and stared at her smart phone.

  “Yeah. I wanted details.” A painful subject, but one they’d have to broach sooner or later if they were going to work together.

  “There’s nothing to say. I got my degree, and came back home. I don’t like winters in Chicago.” Brooke shot him a look that told him he might be swimming near a rocky shore.

  “If it will make you feel any better, you can say I told you so.” If he’d been to college instead of going straight to the minor leagues, he’d at least be a washed-up player with a college degree. Not only that, but who knew what would have happened with Brooke?

  Most of his team mates had married their college sweethearts. Would Brooke have been the one?

  “Why would I say that?” Brooke asked.

  “I should have stayed in school. You were the one who told me I should.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” She put her phone down. “You were right, and I was wrong.”

  This he had not expected. Brooke, hater of all things athletic, now believed he’d made the right choice? “No, you’ve got that backwards.”

  “I don’t think so. You’ve
done pretty well for yourself. Wouldn’t you say?” She waved around the room, no doubt meaning the winery.

  “Brooke, what I made might have to last me for the rest of my life. And I’m not even thirty.” Not to mention that he couldn’t do the one thing that he still had passion to do, just because his body had given out on him. No one seemed to care about that.

  “Let’s not have this conversation.” Brooke rose, grabbing her laptop.

  He knew what this was all about. They’d had this argument a handful of times as kids. Even then, Brooke knew her own mind. And it was different than ninety-nine percent of the people he knew.

  “Let’s.” He stood up. “I’m not the one who sets the salaries. None of the players do.”

  She looked at the ground as if praying for patience. “If we paid teachers what we pay athletes, maybe we’d have the best educational system in the world. But you know how I feel about this.”

  “I do. I just wish you’d stop blaming me for the way things were set up long before I even picked up a glove and a ball.”

  “You always said that, but you were a part of the system. You accepted the status quo. All of you do.”

  “I just wanted to play ball. You of all people know that.”

  For one second it looked like she would understand. But that kind of acceptance didn’t happen in one conversation. Too many years stretched between them like a wound up coil ready to snap.

  “Say what you want, but you’ll never convince me that you’re not the luckiest man I know.”

  “I wouldn’t even try.” He’d had a great career, been smart enough to stash away a small fortune, enjoyed a loving family’s support, and now stood in front of Brooke Miller.

  She cracked a smile. “I’m going to set up some meetings, and I’ll get back to you. We have work to do.”

  “You bet.” Maybe if he played this inning right, he’d have a second chance with Brooke.

  This time, he wouldn’t drop the ball.

  Chapter 7